“Must go to class... Must go to class... ” The student’s mind repeats as he makes his way to the prison-like double doors. “Must make it before the bell... ”
This is an example of a typical high school student. No, the student is not consciously thinking this, but moreover, subconsciously thinking it. And as one can probably guess, the bell rang and the student was late. Welcome to High School.
The average teacher is the same as the next, drab and mundane. The only slight difference in each is the way they do their gray hair and which tweed skirt they will model for the day. They sit in their seats and wait happily to mark students as late. The clock is always faster in the halls and classes than it is in the rest of the world; the school apparently decided to make a new time zone for itself. So each student is caught off guard everyday as they think they are early and painfully find out otherwise.
Driving their trays down the lunch line, students find themselves facing, once again, the dreaded mystery meat in one of its many forms. Each meal is labeled with a familiar name but accompanied by an unworldly texture and shape. The students take their meals to different tables and sit in varied clusters.
When leaving home, the yellow buses pull out of the parking lot and down the roads. The ripped olive drab seats that have “I love Jake” and “Call 028-9164 for a good time” wrote in permanent marker are filled with rowdy kids with pubescent acne. The noise level is that of a football stadium during the Super Bowl and nothing can bring the roar down besides the threat of assigned seating. It is a rare occurrence to see a student exit the bus with anything like a notebook or homework. Instead of their agendas being highlighted for exams, they are marked with a big red star signifying the party for Friday night.
“Oh no... an officer. Uh oh, is he coming over here? What did I do wrong this time? Rookie Train move faster! Hurry, we can still outrun him! Wait... ok, good. He’s just going to class... .that was close.”
Quick, distracted, and disorganized are the thoughts of the Norwich Rook. The freshmen walking in the gutter look like a caravan of pack mules as they march to and from class with their overstuffed book bags. Stiffly, they make their way from class to class, looking at no one and doing their best to blend in; Thank God for uniforms.
The meals at the school are full of choices and variety. If a student is wanting pasta, they can get pasta. One is not confined to the lowly meatloaf and corn everyday as in high school. If one does not want the ever popular chicken patty (which makes its appearance often in the Homestyle line) they can get a different meal. Maybe a salad is what they’re looking for, or a sandwich, or even pizza. Why not go straight for dessert and eat an ice cream?
Being in the Corps of Cadets creates a problem when it comes to studying and homework. It is not uncommon to find oneself sitting at their desk at 0100 catching up on papers and reviews. When the morning rolls around, each student is found comparing the dark circles under each others eyes. Each one tells the story of their night proudly, as though it were the time they caught the bass that was “bigger than their arm”; You know, the bass that got away.
Time management is highly stressed at Norwich, but hard to master. Homework is piled onto each student daily. Adding sports, the Corps of Cadets, and lack of sleep into this homework problem creates quite a setback. Because of late hours, females are found ripping out their hair at night. The males, well, the males just deal with the fact that they have no hair to pull.
Entertainment is in high demand as the illness of the week becomes the highlight. Each freshman is excited to see what symptom will come next and one can find them swapping diseases like playing cards.
“What am I doing here? What was I thinking?” These questions should sound familiar to any and every Rook reading this. Because at some point these questions have been asked. Only the one who asks can answer these curiosities. Only they know what they were doing when they paid the enrollment fee. And only they know why the hell they arrived on campus for that first day.
Culture shock is barely strong enough to describe this school, however, it is the closest term to elicit an emotion or understanding. It is either that or hell. The first seemed much more essay appropriate. The changes a freshman experiences during the first few days at Norwich are too many to count. Stress levels run high as they are stripped of their identity and their past accomplishments. Welcome to Norwich University.
